


However you can

by Lleu



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Casual Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lleu/pseuds/Lleu
Summary: N’ton didn’t go to bed with men often — nor, he thought, did F’lar, especially with Lessa around — and under normal circumstances he never would have been so forward with theWeyrleader, of all people, but Lessa had said,however you can...*N’ton, at his wits’ end looking for a way to keep F’lar from brooding, has a sudden burst of inspiration.
Relationships: F'lar | Fallarnon/N'ton | Naton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	However you can

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/gifts).



> In my head this is set during that bit of _Dragonquest_ when F’lar is sick and thinks he’s going to die and keeps asking for N’ton so he can, like, dictate his last will and testament or w/e. I’ve always loved N’ton and when this idea struck me I figured I might as well see where it went — I hope you enjoy it!

“Just...keep him occupied for a few hours,” Lessa had told him, “without talking politics _or_ Thread. However you can. He needs to _rest_ , in mind as well as body, the Masterhealer said.”

He ought to have known it wouldn’t be that easy. But she’d sounded — uncharacteristically — desperate, and in any case it wasn’t wise to refuse one of Lessa’s requests.

So here he was, in F’lar’s quarters, racking his brain for something, _anything_ that could distract the Weyrleader. F’lar was having none of it. He was difficult to talk to at the best of times — uncompromising and single-minded to the point of being boring, N’ton sometimes thought privately.

But no, that was uncharitable: F’lar simply knew his duty, and better than most of the other dragonriders on Pern, which was precisely the problem at the moment. He wasn’t boring, he was _single-minded_ — he didn’t have the time or the patience for anything that didn’t move him closer to his ultimate goal. At first N’ton had simply accepted this as an unexpected eccentricity of his Weyrleader but now he, too, was coming to believe it was possible, spurred more by F’lar’s intensity and conviction than a clear view of the way to reach it. _The end of Thread_...

“If,” F’lar said angrily, more to himself than to N’ton, “I could just figure out a way —!” This was not the first time, or the second, or the third, that he’d offered up this same musing in the past hour, as N’ton had tried desperately to find a way to make small talk with him. A discussion of the weather had led to a discussion of the last Fall, which had simply intensified F’lar’s irritation at the deviations in the pattern of Threadfall. N’ton’s observations about a gather he’d attended at Bitra on the weyr’s behalf had strayed uncomfortably into politics as F’lar had unexpectedly spent a quarter of an hour interrogating him about everything Lord Sifer had said and done. He’d even — grasping at straws — tried weyr gossip, but F’lar had simply stared at him when he’d commented on the fact that B’rel had asked Felena to move into his weyr and said: “And?”

N’ton was at his wits’ end.

“F’lar,” he said finally, interrupting before F’lar could continue down this conversation path _again_.

F’lar blinked and looked at him as if he were noticing him for the first time. He was propped up in his bed — that he was lying down at all was a concession he had made under duress, to Lessa, before she’d left the two of them alone. “N’ton.”

“You’re not making this easy,” N’ton said with a sigh.

“Making what easy?” F’lar raised an eyebrow.

“I’m supposed to be helping you _rest_ , not...” N’ton gestured vaguely.

“How can I rest at a time like this?” F’lar asked. “There’s so much to do — _too_ much to do...” He shifted position, the outline of his legs moving under the sleeping furs that were covering him from the waist down; his loose shirt rode up for a moment to expose the trail of dark hair leading down towards his groin — and suddenly N’ton knew what he could do.

“Here,” he said, rising from his chair across the room and stepping over to F’lar’s bed. “Lie back.”

“What for?” F’lar asked, suspiciously.

“By the first egg, F’lar, will you just —!” but he caught himself before he said something _too_ impolitic. “I’m trying to _help_.”

“All right, all right,” F’lar said, bemused, raising his hands in surrender. He lowered himself back onto the pillow — still half-sitting up, with his hands behind his head, but no longer proppped up on his elbows, at least.

“Good,” N’ton said. “Now, just... _relax_.” He clambered up on the bed, straddling F’lar’s legs and tugging at the sleeping furs — he’d heard, although not directly from Lessa, that she’d hidden all of F’lar’s trousers in hopes that it would help keep him abed, and as he pulled the furs down he almost laughed, because apparently she’d removed his undergarments, too. This left N’ton with a clear view of F’lar’s not insignificant — even now while it was soft — endowment. He licked his lips, sizing it up. He looked up at F’lar, then, whose eyebrows were raised high.

“This is...unexpected,” F’lar said.

“I know one thing, at least, that always helps _me_ unwind,” N’ton said. “I thought it might help take your mind off things for a bit.”

F’lar gave him a long look. Then he burst out laughing. He was, N’ton thought, a _very_ handsome man — when he wasn’t brooding over his own mortality and the fate of the world. “All right,” F’lar said, “I give in. You have” — he shifted position again and reaching down to give himself a few idle strokes; N’ton’s eyes followed his hand and he saw F’lar’s cock twitch slightly — “my attention, wingleader.”

N’ton didn’t go to bed with men often — nor, he thought, did F’lar, especially with Lessa around — and under normal circumstances he never would have been so forward with the _Weyrleader_ , of all people, but Lessa _had_ said, _however you can_...

Tentatively, then, he leaned down and took F’lar in his mouth, and F’lar took his hand away, leaving N’ton free to work. He ran his tongue around the head and over the slit, teasing a little as he felt F’lar growing to full hardness in his mouth. He was long, but not _too_ thick, and his foreskin was loose — N’ton slid his tongue into it, circling around the head, and was rewarded with a sigh of pleasure from F’lar, whose hand came to rest on the back of his head, guiding him gently further down the shaft.

“That’s good, wingleader — ahh. That’s _very_ good,” F’lar said, and N’ton pulled away briefly to glance up at him and grin; then, responding to the light pressure from F’lar’s hand on the back of his head, he got back to work. He’d always — even before he came to the weyr — prided himself on his diligence, and he treated sex the same way he did everything else, attending to every inch of F’lar’s cock, kissing his way up the shaft before taking the head in his mouth again, earning himself another pleased sound from F’lar. “Yes — keep going. Take it all.”

Taking that as encouragement, he set to work in earnest, alternately taking F’lar’s full length — or as much of it as he could — in his mouth and bobbing up and down at the head, sometimes at his own speed, sometimes letting F’lar set the pace, either with his hand gently but firmly tugging at N’ton’s hair or with his hips, lifting slightly off the bed to thrust into his mouth. F’lar kept up a steady stream of encouragement mixed with commands, directing N’ton until he was satisfied. N’ton took a few brief breaks to attend to F’lar’s balls, as well, tugging on them slightly as he took first one, then the other, in his mouth for a few moments, drawing a “shells, yes, N’ton” out of F’lar. But F’lar always pulled him back up to his cock soon enough, and N’ton was perfectly willing to go along with it.

“Not long now,” F’lar said after a while; his voice sounded a little ragged, but not, N’ton was certain, from illness. N’ton redoubled his efforts, and after another minute or so F’lar let out a sudden half-cry. His hand tightened in N’ton’s hair, a little painfully, and his body tensed as he thrust upwards one last time, filling N’ton’s mouth with the bitter-salty taste of his seed.

N’ton swallowed twice, then pulled away as F’lar’s hand in his hair relaxed and fell away. He sat up, resting back on his heels, grinning and panting slightly as he watched F’lar collect himself, his breathing slowly returning to normal as he lay back, eyes closed.

“Shall I...?” F’lar asked eventually, when he’d opened his eyes again, sitting up a little and nodding towards N’ton’s own crotch, where his erection was clearly visible through his trousers.

“No,” N’ton said, shaking his head; as much as he — and his cock, which jumped at the thought of what F’lar might be able to do with it — appreciated the offer... “This was meant as a gift, first of all, not an obligation, and, more importantly, you’re supposed to be resting.”

“Another time, then,” F’lar said, nodding. “When I’ve recovered. I don’t like to leave a debt unpaid.”

“You enjoyed it, then,” N’ton said, letting perhaps a trace of smugness show in his smile. “Do you feel more relaxed?”

“Much,” F’lar said. “Thank you.” N’ton allowed himself an internal sigh of relief. Then F’lar went on: “Now, tell me again exactly what you heard from that Harper at Bitra...”

N’ton let out a long groan and returned to his chair.


End file.
